


Phantom

by Fatlockandfeeding



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Depression, Fatlock, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Slash, Weight Gain, fat character(s), fat!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatlockandfeeding/pseuds/Fatlockandfeeding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock starts to gain weight and can't seem to figure out why, until he realises his Omega hormones are taking their toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom

He couldn’t really put a date on when it started, and that was disturbing enough, really.  _He_  had lost control of something in his life. Sherlock Holmes, the man who had a meticulously sorted sock index and an infallible memory, couldn’t remember when he’s first started to comfort eat.[[MORE]]

At first, he hadn’t even known why. 

He’d become aware of it, however, on his thirty-seventh birthday. John had insisted on a small gathering, even though Sherlock hadn’t wanted to mark it in any way, and so they’d ended up having a little get together at Baker street, with only Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and Molly in attendance. At least, that was how it was supposed to go. Only Mycroft had stuck his fat, obnoxious nose in where it wasn’t wanted and turned up just before Mrs. Hudson brought out the birthday cake. Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes but allowed his brother to stay all the same, in no small part because he’d brought presents. And Sherlock did like presents…

He opened them after his second slice of birthday cake, his belly pressing uncomfortably into the waistband of his trousers, and really, the haul wasn’t half bad. Molly had bought him new microscope slides, Mrs. Hudson had made biscuits, Lestrade presented him with several cold cases and John had given him new rosin for his bow, as well as a rather lovely silver lapel pin. Sherlock was more than a little shocked at how well all of the people around him seemed to know him. When he opened Mycroft’s gift, however, a large box, his nose wrinkled. 

"Clothes?" he said incredulously, ignoring the way John cleared his throat at Sherlock’s obvious distaste. "You bought me clothes, Mycroft?"

His brother’s mouth twisted into a small smirk and he nodded. “Yes, well, I thought it was time your wardrobe was replaced, seeing as you’ve nearly outgrown your current one.”

Sherlock spluttered and looked down, and sure enough his shirt buttons were gaping, and he had a small pooch hanging over his formerly well-fitted trousers. His face coloured and he looked around at the people int he room, who were all avoiding his eyes. “John?”

The Alpha cleared his throat and looked at his best friend. “Yeah, Sherlock?”

"Did you know?"

John rubbed the back of his neck. “That you’ve put on some weight…I mean…yeah. It’s fine, though, you look fine. I just assumed you knew and were putting off buying new clothes.”   
  
Sherlock pursed his lips and stood up, painfully aware of how the movement made his formerly concave belly ripple. “Well…thank you all for the presents. The party is over now, so you can all go home.”

Mrs. Hudson tutted. “Now Sherlock -“

"GO HOME." He bellowed, before stalking into his room and shutting the door. Stupid, meddling,  _fat_ , Mycroft. The bastard had obviously wanted to call Sherlock out in front of everyone; humiliate him because for once, for the first time in their lives, Mycroft was the thinner brother. Sherlock felt at his belly miserably, and resolved to go on a diet. 

Except he found himself, after he was sure everyone had left and John was in his room, retrieving the rest of his birthday cake and the biscuits Mrs. Hudson had made, and eating them in bed until he felt sick.

After that, he outgrew the clothes Mycroft had got him in less than two months, and what had started out as a small, chubby belly became more. Sherlock’s face got softer, and he developed a slight double chin. His thighs got noticeably thicker and for the first time in Sherlock’s life he developed the curvy hips characteristic of Omegas. His arse got fatter too, gradually filling out his trousers until Sherlock took to wearing pyjama bottoms whenever possible, only donning real clothes if he had to leave the house for a case. And even then, gone was the flaring Belstaff (it would no longer button over his gut, anyway) and the tightly fitted shirts. He took a leaf out of John’s book and started wearing jumpers and jeans. Anything comfortable, anything to keep his size from being noticed.

It still was, of course. The Yarders commented, Mycroft commented, even Mrs. Hudson stopped making him biscuits and started buying bagged salad mix, which she subtly slid into their fridge next to the severed toes. Only John was unchanged. He laughed and joked with Sherlock, just as he always had, and he nagged him and told him off, just as he always had. And if Sherlock noticed John’s eyes lingering on his new girth for a longer time than seemed appropriate, he chose to ignore it. John didn’t mean to stare, he was sure. And God, Sherlock could barely keep from staring at himself now whenever he passed a mirror. He’d grown so large, and round, and Sherlock, although he wasn’t sure why, found himself caressing his belly whenever he was naked. He hated it, loathed it, but whenever he saw himself, he would stroke his hands down the jiggling mass with a longing he couldn’t articulate. 

That is, until one night when John brought home curries. Amazing curries. John was the only person around whom Sherlock didn’t feel the need to hold back when he was eating. He stuffed himself silly with lamb roganjosh, his belly creeping out from under his jumper until it sat, stuffed and taut, in his lap. John said nothing, and instead just brought Sherlock the slice of cheesecake he’d brought home, before flipping on the telly and channel-surfing.

Sherlock ate the cheesecake and rubbed at the exposed strip of gut, thoughtfully. John was so good, really. He was a good Alpha, and a good provider, and when their pup came he’d have no trouble -

Sherlock’s hand froze on his belly, and he stood suddenly, grunting a little at the movement and the exertion it placed on his fat frame. 

"You alright?" John asked, his voice laced with concern, but Sherlock said nothing and instead made his way to his bedroom quickly, slamming the door shut before pulling up a quick search on his phone. 

_Omega weight gain baby._

Of course that only turned up the amount of weight that was expected for an Omega to gain whilst pregnant, and so Sherlock made a frustrated noise and tried again.

_Omega weight gain not pregnant._

That search was more promising, because although the initial results were just advertisements for weight-loss pills or weight-watchers, the more Sherlock scrolled, the more the sites seemed to lean towards the scientific. He clicked on a promising-looking one, and froze when he read the first paragraph. 

_Phantom pregnancy in Omegas can occur in a number of ways, often with the loss of a child or a deep, biological desire for one. However there are many kinds and the symptoms may not be clear at first. One of the most common types occurs in older Omegas (mid thirties to early forties) who have yet to procreate. The body releases hormones, telling the Omega it is time to mate, and these hormones will be particularly strong if the Omega works/lives in close proximity with an unbonded Alpha. The classic symptoms of this are weight gain, as the Omega prepares their body for pregnancy, and depression, which will continue as long as the Omega does not become pregnant. It is thought that the rapid and uncontrolled weight gain comes from a basic need to display to Alphas that the Omega is healthy enough to bear young, but in today’s society where food is readily available it often results in the Omega -_

Sherlock didn’t need to read any more. He turned off his phone and crawled into bed, shoving his shirt up and stroking a hand down his belly, gently. It was big now, and with the large dinner and dessert he’d had it was taut and round, almost like there was a baby in there…God, how had this happened? After years of being an atypical Omega Sherlock’s long-dormant biological clock had apparently kicked into overdrive. 

He steeled himself. Well. He would just have to beat it. He was not a slave to his hormones. Tomorrow he was going on a diet, and that was the end of that. There would be no babies for him. Not for Sherlock Holmes. 

The next day he bought a large pizza to himself in the morning, and that was the diet gone already. He resolved to go on a walk, to at least burn off a few calories, but he hadn’t bargained on passing by a baby shop. Well…surely it couldn’t hurt to just look, could it? He stepped inside and his eyes went immediately to a young mother holding her baby boy. He was a sweet little thing, blonde and pretty, and Sherlock’s belly lurched uncomfortably at the sight of him. He 

busied himself looking at the items instead, and paused when he saw a fluffy yellow baby-grow, complete with a little embroidered bee. He picked up the tiny item of clothing and stroked his fingers over the soft fabric, sighing slightly. 

"Lovely, isn’t it?" The Beta girl who worked in the shop was standing next to him, and Sherlock started. "I, yes, it’s -"

"How far along are you?" she asked chirpily, and Sherlock’s face coloured. 

"I’m not pregnant," he muttered, and he saw the girl’s face turn white, "I’m just fat." Betas couldn’t smell pregnancy the same way Alphas and Omegas could, and he could tell the girl was almost as mortified as he was.

"Best not to ask that, love, even if you do work in a place like this."

Sherlock started at the sound of John’s familiar voice, and dropped the baby-grow quickly, horrified at having been found out. 

"What’re you -"

"I followed you," John said, "I was worried. You’ve been moody and distracted…distracted enough not to notice I was following you." He looked at the item of clothing Sherlock had just dropped and smiled, picking it up and smoothing the fabric. "Aw, bless. Look at that. Hard to believe they’re so small, eh?"

Sherlock said nothing, and instead walked briskly out of the shop, leaving a hurt-looking John behind him. 

That night Sherlock was lying in bed, rubbing at his fat belly again as if he could somehow will a baby in there, when John barged in, without knocking. Sherlock gasped and pulled his shirt down quickly, and then sat up, pulling his dressing gown over himself too. 

"Do you  _mind_?” he hissed, angrily.

"I got you something," John said, holding out a small bag, and Sherlock paused, before snatching it and pulling out its contents, quickly. And out came…the baby grow. Sherlock’s throat caught and he looked at John in a mixture of confusion and anger. 

"John, you know very well that I’m not having a baby. You told the Beta girl at that shop as much today."

John nodded, and then stepped closer, and then Sherlock’s breath hitched when he felt John’s arms wrap around his thick waist. “But you want a baby, don’t you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock blushed and said nothing, although he couldn’t bring himself to step out of John’s arms, and instead leaned closer, his ample belly pressing into the doctor’s flat one. 

John smiled kindly. “I know what you’re going through, Sherlock. I’ve seen it countless times in my patients. I was just waiting for you to say something…but when I saw you in that shop today, you just looked so sad. And so I wanted to tell you…I mean…if you’ll have me, I’d love to put a baby in you.”

A thrill ran down Sherlock’s spine and his knees almost buckled at John’s phrasing, and he found himself clinging to the man’s neck, his breath heavy. 

"But…I’m…me. I’m horrible and rude and…well now I’m  _fat_.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why would you ever want that with me?”

John laughed. “Because I’m in love with you, you great berk.” He leaned forwards and kissed Sherlock’s soft lips, gently, and Sherlock moaned into his mouth. “And for the record,” John pulled away and put his hands on Sherlock’s fat belly, “I think you look gorgeous like this…all round and fat and fertile.” A low growl escaped his throat. “You’re going to make such big, healthy babies, Sherlock.” He pushed the man down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, rubbing at his soft belly through his tee shirt. “And you’re going to get so much fatter for me.”

Sherlock whined and spread his legs, nodding. “Yes John,” he murmured, “yes…”

John grinned and pulled off Sherlock’s shirt, licking his lips at the sight of him and reaching down to pinch one of Sherlock’s nipples, playfully. “Already started growing little tits,” he growled, “you’re just so eager to feed a baby, aren’t you?” 

Sherlock bucked his hips and nodded, tugging at John’s jumper until it was lying on the floor next to his own. 

"God yes, John,  _put a baby in me_.”

It wasn’t possible now, of course, not when Sherlock wasn’t in heat, but he loved the way saying it made John’s pupils blow, and the next thing he knew both of their bottoms were gone and John was mouthing at his neck with his teeth while his huge cock rubbed at Sherlock’s hole, which although not as slick as it would have been in a heat, was already wet. 

"Look at you," John growled, "so hungry for my cock, aren’t you?"

Sherlock nodded, his face flushing, and then he moaned as he felt a gush between his legs, a huge one, and his skin suddenly felt as if he was on fire.   
  
John pulled away for a moment and blinked. “Sherlock…did you just…did you just spontaneously go into heat?”   
  
Sherlock gripped and John’s shoulders and whimpered. “Give me a baby, oh God, John, I want one.”

John didn’t wait long. He pushed his cock into Sherlock with one swoop and howled as the tight, hot wetness enveloped him. “Oh  _fuck_ , Sherlock! You want my baby so bad you just went into heat for me, fuck,  _fuck_.”

He thrust into Sherlock roughly, gasping each time that wonderfully fat belly met his. He gripped at Sherlock’s fleshy hips and bent down to bite at the man’s soft chest, growling. “Next time,” he promised, “I’m fucking you on all fours so I can pound into that gloriously fat arse of yours.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, his toes curling as John thrust deeper and deeper into him. “All for you,” he babbled, “got so big and fat for you so I could have your babies -  _God. Christ, I can feel it._ _"_ John’s knot was starting to expand in him, and Sherlock clamped down, gasping and sputtering as he came, coating his fat belly in come as John howled and pushed his knot all the way in, gasping as Sherlock’s body milked John for everything he had. John gasped, collapsing against Sherlock for a moment and then reached up, stroking the man’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

"Better, love?"

Sherlock grinned, his body thrumming with the feeling of John’s seed flooding him. “Exponentially.”

Ten months later, the weight had never come off. Ten months later Sherlock was fatter than ever, his body big and soft and squishy. But ten months later, Sherlock had a baby boy in his arms, and he wouldn’t change anything for the world.


End file.
